


Set Our House On Fire

by CalamityCain



Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Blood and Injury, Domestic Violence, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:29:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23965420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityCain/pseuds/CalamityCain
Summary: The final days of a tempestuous, often violent relationship, as told from several points of view about a year after it finally ends.(Written as scenes from a film)
Relationships: Jesus Christ/Judas Iscariot
Comments: 11
Kudos: 9





	Set Our House On Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saffiaan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saffiaan/gifts).



> The execution of this story was largely influenced by the movie 'I, Tonya' (which I found to be striking, disturbing and wonderfully unapologetic). I chose to write it as a sort of film script simply because that's how I saw it in my head. And I understand it's not a format that will appeal to everyone, but oh well. It is what it is.

The opening scene shows Jesus pulling in Judas for a kiss as someone films them (the camera is slightly shaky). They are giggling like teenagers and look utterly blissful; the somewhat hazy, golden lighting reflects this. As the kiss grows more intimate, Judas reaches out to playfully push the camera away.

Over this scene we hear Judas’ voiceover:

**_“It’s the same story, always, isn’t it? Marriage, everyone is happy, the end. There’s a reason the fairy tale goes ‘they lived happily ever after’ right where it does.” But you didn’t come here for a fairy tale.”_ **

The halcyon scene goes black.

**_**

**Cut to an interview shot of Judas several years later: still lean, rugged, perhaps more unshaven than he used to be. He has piercing eyes and a cigarette perpetually stuck between his fingers. He raises it to his lips and inhales contemplatively.**

**“You’re here for a sordid tabloid story, aren’t you? Well, you won’t be disappointed.” He smiles sardonically. “Everyone wants the nasty bits. And I wasn’t the only one who was nasty.” He jabs a finger at you as anger creeps into his voice and mounts. “Don’t let those wide eyes and bleeding heart fool you. If he’d saved some of that bleeding heart for me, things wouldn’t have…” He shakes his head and cuts himself off.**

**_**

A brief interlude shows a heated argument reaching its zenith. Judas is yelling as Jesus storms away. “Turn your back on me!” Judas shouts as Jesus slams the door. “You’re a bloody coward is what you are!”

**_**

**Judas continues, “Most of the fights started over stupid, trivial things. He had this sense of…pride or something, the sort of thing where you’re never wrong. _Never._ ” He leans forward, eyes all but blazing. “You ever have someone gaslight you? That’s what it’s called, right – gaslighting?”**

**_**

Cut to another scenario where Judas is searching both his pants and his coat pockets. Jesus is saying adamantly: “I did _not_ lose them. I put them in your pocket.”

“They were not in my pocket. They were _never_ in my pocket. Why won’t you admit you lost them??” Judas’ face contracts in frustration before he tries to calm himself. He holds up his hands. “You know what, it’s fine. Just admit it. I’ll get a new set made.”

“I put them in your pocket and you felt them yourself. I saw you shove you hand in – ”

“Do not! Mindfuck me! Like that!”

Judas slams his fist into the wall next to Jesus’ head, hard enough to crack the cheap whitewash. Jesus is visibly shaken despite the stubbornness in his eyes.

**_**

**“Never did get those keys replaced.” Judas chuckles humourlessly and leans back. Drags more smoke from his cigarette.**

**_**

They are groping each other, all hungry mouths and hands, peeling each other’s clothes off even as they stumble and fall onto the living room sofa. In the background, Andrew Lloyd Webber’s _Love Never Dies_ is playing, the operatic notes swelling in tandem with the intensity of their coupling.

_(SONG EXCERPT)_

_“Love gives you pleasure  
And love brings you pain  
And yet when both are gone,  
Love will still remain”_

They cradle each other’s faces and kiss and groan with need. Their pants are barely half off as their hips grind in an urgent rhythm. Jesus’ uplifted face glows with sweat and ecstasy as he rides out his climax. Below him, Judas looks up with adoring eyes.

_(SONG EXCERPT)_

_“Love never dies  
Love never falters  
Once it has spoken,  
Love is yours.”  
_

Another day, another fight – pushed into a corner, Jesus throws a blender in Judas’ direction. It’s a somewhat half-hearted lob that was never meant to cause serious harm, but a few stray flying shards cuts Judas on the forearm and left cheek. Jesus runs off and Judas chases him, yelling “Bitch!” repeatedly. The scene then fades to black.

_(SONG EXCERPT)_

_“Hearts may get broken…Love endures.”_

*

A flashback from some years ago. We see the couple jamming in what looks like a cosy recording studio. Jesus is strumming a guitar, Judas beating a tambourine. The scene moves around to reveal two other people: Mary Magdalene on bass and Peter on the drums. Now Mary and Judas are singing in harmony, both their robust voices interweaving effortlessly. The scene is vibrant, full of warmth and camaraderie.

We hear Mary’s voiceover:

**_“It started as a classic love story. They met while we were in the band together. A happy family.”_ **

_

**Cut to an interview shot of Mary, who looks more or less the same but without the dreadlocks and dark lipstick. She’s sitting on the small balcony of an apartment, wearing a seasoned leather jacket. A pit bull terrier sits contentedly by her side. The time stamp on her video shows it to be about a year after Judas’ testimony.**

**“I don’t know when exactly they started fighting. But about three, four months after they got hitched, I’m on the phone with Jesus – I can’t even remember what we were talking about – and I hear yelling in the background.” Her voice grows tense, agitated, as she recalls the moment. “I ask him what’s up and he just keeps saying the same thing. Everything’s alright. Everything’s fine.”**

_

Jesus is pacing in the bedroom, on the phone, stopping in his tracks when Judas enters. “You’ll talk to _them_ but you won’t talk to me?” says Judas, his voice all sharp edges with pent-up hurt. “How long have you been talking to her behind my back? Huh?” He tries to snatch the phone away.

“What are you hiding from me? Are you afraid? What are you afraid of telling me?”

“Can you leave me alone for a minute?”

“I’ll leave you alone if you give me a straight answer!”

Jesus averts his gaze stubbornly and tries to barrel right past his husband, but Judas grabs his shoulders – forcefully but also pleadingly. “Talk to me. _Talk to me.”_ He shakes Jesus, who remains silent. “Are you going to make me beg??”

Jesus stares back coldly. “Excuse me. I’m in the middle of a convers – ”

Abruptly Judas slaps him, hard, across the face. The phone clatters to the floor. Another slap, then another, and then a rain of blows as if Judas can no longer restrain himself. His face is a broken dam of overflowing rage and hurt. Only after Jesus is sprawled on the floor does sudden regret overtake him. His stiff spine sags; he stumbles out the door.

We hear Mary’s panicked voice on the phone. After a long moment of lying there unmoving, Jesus picks it up and says, in a calm voice at odds with his shaking hands: “Mary. I’m fine.”

**_**

**Mary shakes her head, stares over the balcony, then back at the interviewer. “Everything was not fine. Hadn’t been for a long time.”**

**_**

**Cut to another interview with Peter, whose earlier floppy hair has been updated to a short hipster do. (The date of the recording is the same as that of Mary’s.) He is smiling ruefully.**

**“Every band has that one member, right? Judas was that guy. The one who made things…difficult. Always had a bone to pick with one of us. When we finally broke up, it was almost a relief.” He frowns. “If anything, Jesus was always the one who could calm him down. But I guess he got the worst of Judas’ difficult side. And we didn’t know about it for ages.”**

**_**

Judas is lying in bed alone. His eyes are wide open, staring at the ceiling. After a while, he sighs. He wipes his face; traces of wetness on his cheeks are just visible by the moonlight.

He gets up goes to the living room where Jesus is curled up on the sofa a little too tightly. Judas grabs a blanket from the nearby armchair and pulls it over his husband. Slowly Jesus relaxes into the warmth, shifting and sighing in his sleep.

**_**

**Cut to the Judas interview. A cigarette lies half-abandoned on the table, smoke curling languidly in the air. “He was so _infuriating_ when he did that, that cold shoulder thing.” He mimes a strangling action.” “He can be the most passive-aggressive little… Do you know, one day I came home to find he had dumped all my cigarettes? Said he was ‘concerned about my health.’ ” **

**Then he leans forward slightly, anger fading into seriousness. “That was the second _and last_ time I hit him. Alright? Don’t let him or anyone tell you different.”**

**_**

The next morning, Judas is brewing coffee for both of them. Sunlight streams gently through the window as they sit companionably like an ordinary couple and sip from their steaming mugs. Jesus rests his thigh against Judas’, head leaning on his shoulder, as they spontaneously take a selfie together.

“No, take another one,” Jesus insists as he is about to upload the picture. “I look terrible.” Judas snorts and appeases him, taking a few more shots. In one of them, he is kissing Jesus on the cheek. Each of the photos radiates silliness and sweet affection.

**_**

**Cut to Mary’s interview. “I don’t think either of them were completely honest with us. I mean, no point in bringing it up anymore.” She shrugs a little sadly, rubs the dog’s head. “Someone was always getting hurt. Sometimes they were vicious on purpose, attacking each other, seeing who could sink their barbs in the hardest. And sometimes it was by accident.” She purses her lips then, as if recalling something particularly unpleasant.**

**_**

**Cut to Peter, who is in the midst of rebuffing a question. “Uhm. No. They never told us much about the accident. We could never get them to talk about it. Heck, by the time we found out, they’d been in and out of the hospital.”**

**_**

Judas grabs Jesus’ wrists. “Are you fucking her? Are the two of you _fucking?”_

"Let go of me."

“Answer me and I’ll let go.”

“Let GO of me.”

“It’s a simple answer, Jesus! Yes or no!”

“What does it matter? You’ll believe what you want to.”

“ANSWER ME!”

In response, Jesus throws himself against Judas, enough to knock the latter onto his back. Then he runs to the kitchen. When Judas gets there, Jesus is pointing a knife at him.

“Get out.”

“Jesus. Don’t be a dramatic little – ”

“GET OUUUT!”

Judas manages to wrestle the knife from Jesus, but not without a slicing a long thin gash into his upper arm. Jesus hits him in the face. He grabs Jesus by the collar and slams him into the wall, then into the window, again and again. Somehow or other, in the madness of their tussle, Jesus is facing the glass when it shatters.

The view tilts dizzily for a second or two. Everything happens in a blur. Then Judas falls back, wild-eyed with panic. The scene swings from him to where Jesus is stumbling towards him with a dazed look, his face streaked with blood, his wrists shredded and full of shards. There is seemingly blood everywhere – on his clothes, streaming freely in rivulets down his arms, forming rosy droplets on the floor.

“Stay…just stay there. Don’t move.” Judas pulls dishrags from a drawer, spilling half of them on the floor, to use as makeshift bandages. As he half-successfully binds one of the bloody wrists, Jesus sways and collapses in his arms. A low wail spills from his lips, a litany of _“No no no.”_

**_**

**Back to Mary, whose jaw is hard with exasperation. “He was convinced that Jesus and I were... God, it was so fucking _stupid.”_ She shakes her head. “For as long as he and Judas were together, I did not, even once, go there.”**

**_**

**Cut to Peter, who says: “They were just really good friends. Well, maybe now a little more than that. But they had always been tight. They would call and text each other – especially when things were, you know, bad – and it drove Judas up the wall, that they shared something he wasn’t a part of.” He takes a swig from his bottle of beer. “But no. They did not cheat on Judas. Not once.”**

**_**

Cut to Judas carrying a half-conscious Jesus towards the car. Jesus is moaning something as his head rests limply on Judas’ chest, but Judas is too frantic to hear anything. “Don’t you fucking die,” is all he can say. He slams the door, fumbles with the keys. “Don’t you fucking die on me, you hear??”

_(SONG EXCERPT)_

_“Love never dies  
Love never falters  
Once it has spoken,  
Love is yours."_

Some time later, he pulls up in front of the Emergency section of a hospital. His face is pale and tight with panic, his eyes wide and unblinking and full of regret.

The next day he sits at the small dining table with Peter and two neglected mugs of coffee between them. His arm is clumsily bandaged where Jesus’ kitchen knife had landed. Sunlight pours through the broken window, the jagged edges still morbidly streaked with blood, shards scattered over the floor.

“We should clean that up,” Peter says at last. He’s about to get up, but Judas stops him. “Leave it. I’ll do it.”

Peter slumps back down, looking almost as defeated as Judas. “Now what?” When he gets to response, he continues: “You know. Since you left the band, you’ve barely spoken to us.” More silence. “Mary tried to call you too – ”

“Don’t.” Judas raises a warning finger. A warning that goes unheeded.

“You must have gotten her messages – ”

Judas slams his mug down. Cold coffee slops over the table. “The day Mary gets out of our lives is the day we can start having some peace. If you disagree, you can get out too.” He rises abruptly as Peter looks up with surprise and hurt.

**_**

**Judas shakes his head and shrugs, gaze fixed on the floor. “Probably shouldn’t have done that. I was muddled and upset and angry – mostly angry at myself – and of course I wanted to blame everyone _but_ myself.” When he looks up, his eyes are shiny, his voice ragged. “I drove him to her, in the end, didn’t I? No one would blame him.”**

**_**

Judas arrives at the hospital waiting area to find Mary already there. She rises when she sees him, looking simultaneously apologetic and defensive. The awkward tension builds as they both stand there, lost for words. Finally she says: “I wasn’t sure if you…if anyone was coming. I just came to bring him some clothes.” She indicates the large carry-all bag hanging from her shoulder.

"I brought him clothes yesterday. You can leave if you want.”

Mary struggles to make up her mind – to stand her ground, or leave. “I only want what’s best for him,” she says.

“Then you know what to do.”

“What?”

“Leave us alone. Stop trying to be his…” he gestures with fumbling flicks of a hand. “His _rebound.”_

Her fingers curl into fists without her realising. “Is that what you think I am?”

“When he goes crying to you if something I say upsets him, even if he started the fight? When he says more to you in five _minutes_ than he does to me in five days? Yes.” Judas’s shoulders stiffen. “Stop goddamn interfering in our lives.”

 _“Interfering?”_ She takes two large steps, closing the distance between them. “I’m his friend. Are you telling me I can’t _care_ about him?”

“If you _cared_ enough, you’d realise how much damage you’re causing.”

She grits her teeth, visibly struggling to keep her volume down. “ _You’re_ the one causing damage. We wouldn’t be here otherwise, would we??”

Judas opens his mouth to retaliate, but then stops and turns to see Jesus emerging from the ward. He looks slightly pale and unsteady on his feet, face marked by freshly scabbed cuts and wrists neatly bandaged. His eyes flit from one to the other, torn between his lover and his best friend.

Mary speaks first. “I just came to see if you were alright. I’ll leave now.” She lays a hand on Jesus’ shoulder; he squeezes it in response. To Judas she says, tersely: “Take care of him, alright?”

Then she turns and walks away before either of them can answer.

Judas places a hand on Jesus’ back to steer him away from her retreating figure. His other hand strokes Jesus’ face, examining the jagged cuts, the ugly bruise on the right temple. Jesus goes tense at his touch, at the memory of violence; but he can’t resist the tender caresses for long. He closes his eyes and sighs, and leans wearily into him.

“Come now,” Judas whispers. “Let’s get you home.”

**_**

**Peter drains the last mouthful from his bottle and sighs. “A few days after that, they split up. And we thought, that was it. They were done and could go on with their lives; pick up the pieces, all that.” He shakes his head. His lips are pinched at the sides. “I’m going to grab another bottle, if you don’t mind,” he says to the interviewer. “You want one?”**

**_**

**Mary adds on: “It was messy, as I expected it would be. I’ve known people who went through something similar. I tried to…” She pauses and sighs. “We tried to stop him going back. He was living with some other friends for a week or so. And then next thing I know, they were back together. Trying to make it work.” She smiles sadly. “That’s the mistake everyone makes.”**

**_**

The reunited couple are on the sofa watching a movie. Jesus’ head is on Judas’ chest, Judas’ leg hooked over his. He strokes Jesus’ hair tenderly, fingers rubbing circles on the back of his neck. The latter closes his eyes and leans into his lover’s skilled hands. They both look deeply content. An instrumental strain of ‘Love Never Dies’ plays softly in the background.

_(SONG EXCERPT)_

_“Try to deny it,  
And try to protest  
But love won't let you go  
Once you've been possessed…"  
_

Another day. Another fight. Judas stalks off with balled fists as Jesus sinks to the floor with knees to his chest. He closes his eyes, leans against the wall. Some minutes later Judas reappears with a hastily stuffed backpack. He pauses for a bit and his gaze flits over to Jesus, who refuses to meet his eyes. Judas’ jaw stiffens. He walks out the door without another word.

He is halfway down the street when he hears Jesus calling his name. Out of pride, he doesn’t turn around. But he does come to a dead halt, dropping his backpack as Jesus’ frantic footsteps approach. When Jesus throws his arms around him, his resolve weakens and his head droops. He starts shaking with sobs. They remain like that for a long time.

**_**

**The interviewer’s camera faces Jesus for the first time. But he has some trouble facing it, preferring to look down at his steaming mug of coffee. “I never used to drink my coffee black before I met him,” he says wistfully. “He liked it as black and strong as he could get it.”**

**He crosses his legs. His feet are bare beneath the soft faded black jeans. “What else can I tell you that the others haven’t? We couldn’t live with each other. We couldn’t live _without_ each other. Being divorced never stood in our way.” His manner is diffident; it takes some time for his eyes to meet the camera. “It’s been three years since…it happened. And here I am. Still trying to remember who I was before I met him.”**

**_**

They are naked, glowing with sweat and post-coital bliss. Judas’ hand slides down Jesus’ thigh, kneading his calf, his foot. Jesus stretches lazily beneath him.

“I’ve been thinking,” Judas says softly. “We should end it here. Like this. Before we go at each other again – tomorrow, or in two days, in a week. You know it’s going to happen.”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” Jesus tugs at his arm. Judas lies down beside his ex-husband, running his hands through the soft dark waves, savouring the soft lips amid the light layer of stubble.

“I think we’ve talked enough,” he says after a while. “If we talk much more we’ll probably start again.”

“Let’s start again, then,” Jesus says. “Not start fighting. I mean go back to the way things were. Before all of…this.” He leans in with parted lips. For a long moment they did nothing but kiss. Judas cradles the back of his lover’s neck, running his hands down the curves on his back, his shoulders, as if committing to memory every detail of his body.

“Could we?” Jesus whispers when they finally pulled apart. “Start again.”

Judas smiles, but his eyes are full of sadness that Jesus chooses not to see. “I’ll make sure of it.”

*

The next evening, Mary and Peter are performing a small unplugged gig on the stage of a smoky pub, singing and playing their guitars.

_(SINGING)_

_Mary:_

_“I’ve been living to see you  
Dying to see you,  
But it shouldn’t be like this”_

_Peter:_

_“This was unexpected.  
What do I do now?”  
_

_Mary:_

_“Could we start again, please?”_

The scene of their performance is juxtaposed and interwoven with another scenario where Jesus has just entered the small apartment they’ve been sharing in their on-again, off-again relationship. “I’ve got your beer,” he calls, plonking groceries on the kitchen counter. There is no reply.

_(SINGING)_

_Both:_

_“I think you’ve made your point now  
You’ve even gone a bit too far to get your message home"_

_Peter:_

_“Before it gets too frightening,  
We ought to call a halt”  
_

_Both:_

_“Could we start again, please?”_

Jesus is now walking down the short corridor that leads to the bedroom. “Judas?” he calls. He pushes the door open – then staggers back as if he’s been shot. He tries to get up, but his knees have turned to liquid. He falls again.

_Mary:_

_“Hurry up and tell me  
That this is just a dream;  
Or could we start again, please?"_

On the pub’s unused piano, where she had left her phone, the screen is lighting up with a call from Jesus.

**_**

**Present-day Jesus looks at the tiles while trying to answer a difficult question. “I don’t know how to describe what I felt. I never…really allowed myself to think about it. I mean, he saved us both, didn’t he?” He rubs his face, his eyes, as if suddenly weary. “He called me a coward, when he was angry. Maybe he was right. Maybe that’s why he had to be the one to end it.” He shakes his head. “I think I was just…relieved. That it was over.”**

**_**

Jesus is curled up on the floor outside the bedroom and crying inconsolably. His phone lies beside him, Mary’s voice on the other end. His sobs seem to tear themselves painfully from the depths of his lungs. _“I didn’t…I’m sorry…didn’t even say goodbye…”_ His next few words are unintelligible, lost in a bout of wailing.

In the foreground, Judas’ legs are floating above the bed. He has hung himself from the ceiling fan.

**_**

**“It felt like an upheaval in all our lives, to be honest.” Peter looks mournful, but also at peace. “Judas was always a troubled guy. None of us – not even his own husband – knew just _how_ troubled. Could we, _should_ we have done something? I don’t know.” He smiles ruefully. “For such a fearlessly…confrontational person, he was full of secrets. He pushes people away. He pushed all of us away. Including the man he loved.”**

**_**

**“He was possessive. He wanted Jesus all to himself.” Mary sighs. “I know Jesus wasn’t always an angel to him. But…look, when I first knew him, Jesus was this soulful, quiet yet charismatic, self-assured kind of guy. But the longer he was with Judas, the more he…I don’t know, disappeared into himself. Faded away until I barely knew him.” Her look is one of both resignation and relief. “Maybe Judas knew he was bad for him. And maybe he felt like he was saving them. From himself.”**

**_**

Jesus is lying despondently on the floor of the living room. He looks like he has not moved, or eaten, for at least two days. The screen of his phone blinks on and off with calls he can’t bring himself to answer.

Some time later – he opens his eyes. Blank at first, they slowly focus and fall on the guitar tucked into a corner – his guitar. With great effort, he drags himself off the ground and picks it up, wipes off the layer of dust. It takes some time to even remember how to tune the knobs. After he finally gets the sound right, he strums a chord.

He is engrossed in plucking out an old tune when Mary appears in the doorway behind him. He doesn’t hear her until she says: “You left the door unlocked.”

He remains silent, as if he’s forgotten how to speak. She drops to her knees and throws her arms around him. “We weren’t sure if you were dead,” she murmurs. He leans back against her chest and clings to her arms.

**_**

**“I’ll never know what he was thinking, how long he’d been planning to – or if he even planned it.” Tears seemingly buried for years rise to the surface again. Jesus looks away, into the distance, looking for answers he’ll never find. “He didn’t leave a note, or anything. I’ll never know what troubled him. If we had never met, never married, would he…did I drive him to his death?”**

**He sniffs, wipes his face and smiles. “It’s years too late to ask those things. Anyway, he’d tell me to stop being a stupid git and get on with my life. That’s what I’m trying to do.” His eyes face the camera directly at last. “That’s all we can do.”**

**_**

Two weeks after Mary finds him playing guitar on the floor, Jesus is moving his things from the townhouse he is leaving for the last time. With Peter’s help he pushes the last box into the booth of Mary’s Honda and she slams the lid close. Jesus suddenly pulls her into a hug, then does the same to Peter. When he draws back, he looks somewhat ashamed.

“You’ve always been there for me,” he blurts out. “For us. And we never said thank you. Or…well, I never said thanks. I don’t know if…if he ever d – ”

“No, he didn’t. Because he was a dick.” Mary smiles, her eyes growing shiny. “Still, you chose him.”

“Yeah. That must mean he wasn’t entirely terrible.” Peter squeezes his shoulder. “Ready to move from one small, shitty apartment to another?”

“Your place isn’t that bad,” Jesus says as they climbed into the car. “There’s that great café nearby – ”

He stops short then, recalling that it’s the very same café Judas visited with almost religious frequency, where he would rattle pretentiously about the quality of the beans while Jesus smiled fondly at him.

Mary glimpses his pale, crestfallen face and leans over to kiss him on the cheek. “You’ll be alright,” she says, giving his hand a squeeze. “Give yourself time.”

They drive off, and the scene lingers on the door of the townhouse, before moving past it into the familiar interiors. _Love Never Dies_ fades in, playing over memories of the tempestuous couple: arguing, making love, yelling while destroying plates and glasses, kissing and laughing, cooking together, getting drunk and taking photos of each other.

_“And soon as you submit  
Surrender flesh and bone  
That love takes on a life  
Much bigger than your own_

_“It uses you at whim  
And drives you to despair,  
And forces you to feel  
More joy than you can bear_

_“Love gives you pleasure  
And love brings you pain  
And yet when both are gone,  
Love will still remain.”  
_

The view moves from space to space, scene to scene, and finally to the bedroom. This last flashback shows them falling asleep in each other’s arms, the night before Judas took his own life.

_“Love never dies  
Love never alters;  
Hearts may get broken,  
Love endures."_

****

**_**

**A last interview shot: Judas smiling, almost fondly this time. “He’s probably one of the hardest people to love. But even harder _not_ to love.” He pauses to inhale the last of his cigarette. “We could break up another ten times, and still I’d do anything for him. I hope he knows that.” His sharp eyes grow soft, wistful. “I’d die for him, I would. Whatever happens, I’d hope he has a good life.”**

**_**

The screen goes black.


End file.
